Happiness in a Bottle

Dinner was planned. The pot roast was in the slow cooker, covered in potatoes, carrots, onions and mushrooms. Fresh bread was baking in the bread maker. Gravy was simmering in a tiny skillet, releasing the aroma of beef into the kitchen.

The table was set. The finest dishes had been pulled out for the evening. Real plates as opposed to the disposable paper plates they usually used. She poured him a scotch and soda with two small pieces of ice.

Tonight was a special occasion. She was pregnant and she intended to tell him. That’s why she had made his favorite meal and poured him a drink. The celebrating was about to begin. She forewent her usual glass of wine in favor of something non-alcoholic.

He came into dinner and sat down at the table with barely a word. His eyes were locked on the serving platters heaped with food. She had even made him a chocolate cake for dessert. He cut into the roast, took a lion’s portion and passed the plate to her. She was eating for two now, she took a slightly larger portion than normal, added carrots and onions to her plate and put the platter back down.

He ate and grunted. Occasionally, he stopped to take a drink of the large scotch and soda. After dinner, she fixed him a second glass. He went into the living room to watch COPS. She cleared the dishes and rinsed them.

A gurgling noise came from the living room. It was barely audible over the sound of dishes clinking and water running in the sink. She smiled. Yes, her and her daughter would be just fine.